


Taking Care of Each Other

by SecretEvening



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Recovery, Self-Discovery, Sweet, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25406821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretEvening/pseuds/SecretEvening
Summary: In the aftermath of the final battle, Catra struggles to recover from a lifetime of trauma and abuse. Plagued by nightmares and panic attacks, she increasingly relies on Adora to help her cope. But she soon discovers that she's not the only one with scars, and Adora is doing much worse than anyone realized. Catra has never learned to take care of other people. She's always been the one who needed to be protected. But she's not going to let Adora suffer through this alone.-----Adora learns to be selfish, and Catra learns to be selfless.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 60
Kudos: 608





	1. This Is Not Our Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Updates each Monday.
> 
> This fandom means a lot to me. The first season of She-Ra is what got me to start reading and writing fanfic. The first fic I ever wrote was for this fandom. Now that the final season has ended, I figured it's time for me to come back and write another. I hope you enjoy it. <3

Whispers fill her mind, deafeningly loud, a cacophony of overlapping voices. One cuts through, clear and commanding above all others. Visions of a thousand planets through a trillion sets of eyes, sights running through her mind without ever being seen. The feeling of being watched. Feeling far too calm and composed. The knowledge that she does not want this screams at her from the edges of her mind, but it is only one voice among the multitude, and it holds no sway.

Adora stands before her, expression pensive as she stares into the distance. It brightens when she notices Catra walking up beside her, and the scream is telling Adora to run, to get away, but it never escapes her mouth. Adora holds out her hand, and Catra lets herself be pulled into a gentle embrace. The voices are so loud, yet she can hear every breath and quiet movement the two of them make perfectly.

She pulls back from Adora's arms, bringing her hands up to cradle either side of her face, thumbs brushing across her cheeks. A smile crosses her face, although her emotions have not changed. Always calm, placid. Her hands trail down Adora's jaw, and then her neck, before coming to rest on either side.

The voices are in unison now, her mind filled with their chanting. They tell her what she must do. They tell her she must cast out the shadows. That screaming remnant at the edge of her mind is inaudible, drowned out by the vast chorus. She grips the sides of Adora's neck tighter.

Her claws extend.

Adora's eyes widen in shock. They are so blue. There is a spark of light in them, fierce and indomitable, and Catra's memories dispassionately inform her that she used to find them captivating. Blood runs down her hands and arms in rivulets. The voices chant. You are exalted! You are exalted! You are exalted!

The light goes out.

She feels nothing at all.

  
  
  


Catra wakes up gasping for breath. Where is she? Where is she? Her eyes dart about. She's in a dark, moonlit room, in a hard bed, covered in blankets. Her wild eyes find Adora sleeping beside her. She screams and throws herself off the bed. She hits the floor and pushes herself up slightly so she can see, leaning back on her forearms with her knees bent in front of her.

"Catra?" Adora stirs and speaks in a voice filled with worry, bolting upright and whipping her head back and forth, trying to orient herself. She sees Catra on the floor, hyperventilating. "Catra!" She flings the blankets off and approaches her.

"No! Don't!" Catra screams, scooting backward as fast as she can, pushing away with her legs until her back hits the wall.

"Catra, it's okay!" Adora pleads. Catra shakes her head and curls up into a ball, hands on the back of her head, pulling it downward so she's nestled against her knees, which are pulled tight against her body.

"No, no no, get away, don't come near me." she babbles, shaking her hear violently, desperately trying to slow the panicked heaving of her chest but unable to do so. Despite her warnings, Adora rushes to her side and wraps her arms around her. Catra squirms and fights, trying to get free, but Adora's arms are too strong. "No! No!"

"You're safe, we're safe, he's gone," Adora murmurs against the top of Catra's head, shushing her and holding her tight. She wraps one hand around the side of Catra's head and pulls it tight against her chest so that she can't shake it anymore.

"No, no, no, no, no-" Catra mumbles. She waits in terror for the voices to return, for her body to no longer be her own, for him to take her again.

"He's gone," Adora repeats, "he's gone. We're safe." She repeats the words over and over, makes a mantra of them, and the steady cadence of it is an anchor in the storm. Catra uses it as a metronome, a slow rhythm to sync her breaths to. As her breathing evens out, her racing heart begins to follow suit, going from thundering to merely racing. It takes several minutes to pull her brain back into reality and remember what's going on. She's in Brightmoon. She's staying with Adora. The war is over. Horde Prime is gone.

"Adora?" she asks in a voice hoarse and broken.

"Yes, it's me," Adora chokes out tearfully, "I'm right here, I've got you." Catra unfolds her hands from the back of her head and returns Adora's embrace, clutching desperately.

"Adora," she breathes the syllables, finding calm in their reassuring familiarity. She squeezes even tighter. "Adora." Minutes pass, curled up together in the corner of the room, Adora the solid ground beneath her unsteady feet. Adora runs her hand soothingly up and down Catra's back, brushing through her bare fur.

"You dreamed about him." Adora says, not a question, a statement of fact.

"I don't want to talk about it," Catra grumbles, burying her face deeper into the crook of Adora's neck. She knows Adora is going to push, that's just how she is. But the exhaustion of the final battle and the long slog back to Brightmoon is still in her bones, too much to be warded off with a few hours rest.

"Catra, we have to-"

"Adora," Catra pleads, "I can't do this right now. I'm tired. Let's just go back to bed." Adora sighs and nods.

"Okay. Okay." They slowly untangle themselves, and Catra rises to her feet on trembling, unsteady legs. Adora keeps a hand on the small of Catra's back, guiding her back to bed.

They crawl back in and pull the blankets over themselves again, lying on opposite sides of the bed, facing each other. Catra stares at Adora's face, commits every feature to memory. She looks different now, older, but familiar regardless. Her jaw is more defined and there's less baby fat in her cheeks, but she still has that same furrow in her brow that she always got when she was upset. The light in her eyes is still there, protective and warm and endlessly determined. It's still the face of the girl she grew up with, but she's an adult now. Catra supposes she is too. She wonders when that happened.

Catra reaches out and traces her fingers along the curve of Adora's cheek. The worried frown on Adora's face softens, and she lifts her hand up to place it on top of Catra's, closing her eyes for a moment and relaxing into the touch.

"You okay?" she asks. Catra is sickened by the instinctive urge that rises through her body, the urge to snap and get defensive, to avoid any appearance of weakness.

"Hmm. Better now," she says instead. The words are hard to get out, but Catra makes herself say them anyway, a weak but determined whisper, "It helps having you here."

A blush and a pleased smile spread across Adora's face, and Catra is impossibly charmed by the predictability of it. Adora, who more than anything else wants to be _useful._ Catra wants her to put herself first more often, to prioritize her own desires, but some things will never change. They're just who she is.

She scoots closer to Adora, who pulls her close so they're pressed together. The worry that fills Adora is clear in the stiff grip of her hands as they hold her tight, protective and strong.

"It doesn't have to be now, but will you talk to me about it?"

"I will." Catra responds at length. A hand tilts Catra's chin up so she's looking into Adora's eyes. It pulls her forward into a slow, gentle kiss. When they kissed underneath the Heart, it was desperate passion and longing and joy, released all at once. This kiss is not like that one. This kiss is soft and sleepy and affectionate, and Catra feels so full of love that her heart might burst. Their lips part, but their foreheads are still pressed together, eyes closed.

"C'mon kitty-cat, we've had a _very_ long day. Let's get some rest."

"Mmm, you're lucky you're cute."

Adora giggles, and the two of them drift back to sleep.

* * *

When the thrill of their victory passes, it becomes clear that the work has only just begun. Prime may be gone, but he left behind a broken world. Leveled forests, shattered landscapes, whole cities razed to the ground. And his work isn't the only culprit. The power of the Heart may have spread life and magic to the whole world, but it also left the remnants of the surrounding towns covered in lush greenery that has rendered them even less usable.

The Fright Zone was hit the worst. Huge segments of it were already blown to pieces by Hordak's rampage, and the blanket of moss and vines destroyed much of the remaining machinery. It is a nation left leaderless and without direction. Hordak has made it clear that he has no interest in returning to power, even if the other kingdoms would allow it. Scorpia has taken charge, aiming to reestablish the Scorpion kingdom, but there is much work to be done.

Then there are the clones. The guiding voice they relied upon their whole lives is gone, and they are confused and adrift. The hive mind still exists, the connection too integrated into their biology to be severed by Prime’s death, but there is no longer a leader to direct it. Entrapta has taken charge of helping them join the society of Etheria, with both Hordak and Wrong Hordak at her side. The clones are an effective work force, able to communicate with one another effortlessly across any distance via the hive mind connection, and the shattered kingdoms have called upon them for help rebuilding.

The chaos of the aftermath opened the way for opportunists, and many of the kingdoms are finding their more remote towns plagued by bandits. They've had to call in She-Ra for aid more than once, although her presence usually resolves the situation pretty quickly.

It's a mess. The first few weeks are hectic, and it is abundantly clear that they don't have the luxury of sitting back and enjoying their victory. Everyone is tired and stressed.

The nightmares are unrelenting. The sickening feeling of being under Horde Prime’s control, of hurting Adora, hurting her friends, hurting herself. The burn of Shadow Weaver's lightning coursing through her skin. Adora believing Shadow Weaver's lies and abandoning her. Cruel words looping in her head until they're all she can hear.

Adora does what she can to comfort her, and some nights Catra will creep out of bed and spend time with Melog. But there's only so much that can be done. Adora holds Catra tight and whispers soothing words, helps to lull her back to sleep, but it doesn't get rid of the stabbing terror, or the bags beneath her eyes.

The stress of the reconstruction effort leaves everyone tired and on edge. She and Adora have started snapping at one another more and more, and her bickering with Glimmer has gradually been turning less and less playful.

It all gets to be too much. She's standing in their room, fighting with Adora yet again. She's fully aware of how pointless their arguments are, but they're both so tense, the slightest provocation makes them explode. She's too tense, a rope pulled too taught, and finally, she snaps.

After one last angry word, she runs out of their room, towards the front gate of Brightmoon. Melog sees her and bounds over to her side. She hops up onto their back and rides away, into the whispering woods. They're running between the trees and through the groves, and Catra barely sees any of it. Melog asks her where they're going.

"Anywhere else." she growls, and Melog pulls up to an abrupt stop, sending her flying off them and tumbling to the ground, "Hey, what was that for?" she yells in protest.

"You're not dragging me into your bad decisions," they calmly reply, "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you're leaving."

"Because I'm an idiot," Catra scowls, "I can't believe I seriously thought I'd fit in there."

"They want you there, Adora and the others."

"It doesn't matter what they want!" Catra shouts, back on her feet and pacing back and forth on the mossy ground. "I'm not meant for it. I'm not meant for any of this. I'm... I'm _ruined,_ they're never going to have a place for someone like me."

Melog sees her increasing agitation and pounces, bowling her over and lying down on top of her.

"Agh, get off!"

"No."

Catra grunts and struggles, trying to push Melog off but unable to shift their weight. She's tearing up now, and when she speaks again, her voice is watery.

"It's not fair! We saved the world, didn't we? I got the girl, didn't I? This was supposed to be my happy ending! So why can't I..." She trails off and stops struggling, accepting Melog's weight on top of her.

"You say happy ending as if your story is already over. But it has only just begun."

"I don't care. I- I'm not going back. Not yet."

"I'm not going to make you if you're not ready." Melog says, climbing off of her and letting her sit up and brush herself off. "But I need an answer. Where do you want to go?"

Catra pauses, bites her lip.

"I think I have an idea."

* * *

The bowels of the Crystal Castle are quiet and still. There will be no robotic monsters or ancient traps. Its purpose is fulfilled. Catra finds her way through by memory and by instinct, letting her hand brush along the intricate circuits on the walls as she walks through the hallways. Getting here wasn't easy. Without Glimmer's teleportation or Swiftwind's wings to help things along it's a full day's trip to get here, even if you know the way perfectly, which Catra didn't. After two days of traveling, both above ground and below, she finds it.

A huge, open room with a vaulted ceiling, like a barren temple, built to house an object of worship but never given one. The ground is covered in scorch marks and ash, and there is only one thing to disrupt the emptiness.

A red mask, cracked and shattered into several pieces.

It looks so small sitting in the center of such a huge room. She's not really sure what she expected. It's so anticlimactic, she almost wants to laugh.

She doesn't laugh.

Melog pads along beside her, and the two of them walk slowly over to where it sits. The mask's eyes are empty. Which is a ridiculous thought, she reasons. Of course they're empty, even when she was alive they were empty – it's a mask. But the emptiness feels different, somehow.

The mask stares at Catra, and she stares back.

"Who was she? I met her, but no one ever really explained it to me." Melog asks.

"My mom." Catra says, and even though she speaks softly, the vastness of the room seems to echo it regardless. She takes off the small knapsack that she was given at a village along the way and crouches down beside the mask. One by one she picks up the broken pieces and puts them into the knapsack.

"Something to remember her by?"

Catra takes one last look about the place. At the scorched ground and the high ceiling and the beautiful circuitry that lines everything.

"I hate this place. And I hated her. Let's get out of here."

* * *

It’s a bright and sunny day without a single cloud in the sky when Catra returns to Brightmoon, four days after she left. The gleaming white marble shines proud in the light. She climbs the stairs up the moonstone spire, and onto the path that leads to the front gate. The guards standing by the entrance exchange a loaded glance as she approaches. The royal guard has fought against her too many times to ever trust her, but she doesn't particularly care what they think. She ignores them.

Her feet carry her absently through the halls to Adora’s… to _their_ room. Absence has settled her heart somewhat, and the familiar sight fills her with comfort. The straps of her knapsack weigh on her shoulders far more heavily than they should. She shrugs them off, and places it on the floor.

The door behind her opens, and she smiles.

“Hey Ado–” she begins, but stops abruptly as she turns to face her.

Adora looks _awful._ There are heavy bags under her eyes, and her normally solid shoulders are slouched. Catra gets the distinct impression that Adora hasn't bathed since she left. The moment Adora sees her, she stops short and just stares at her. Then she sprints over, scoops Catra up in a crushingly tight hug, and bursts into tears.

“Whoa, Adora! Hey, hey, I’m okay.” Catra tries to comfort her but she just squeezes harder. She sobs into the crook of Catra’s neck as she holds her. “Adora, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

The crushing tightness releases, only to be replaced by a firm shove as Adora pushes her away.

“What is _wrong_ with you!” she demands.

“What?”

“How can you come back here and just pretend that everything is fine, I was worried sick! You left, and I didn’t know where you were or if you were okay or if you were going to come back-”

“Adora, come on, I always come back, you know that.”

“No I don’t!” Adora shouts, and Catra recoils as if she’d been slapped. "I _used_ to know that, but we're not little kids anymore. Everything is different now, how was I supposed to know you would come back? That you hadn’t- hadn’t changed your mind about all this? About me?” Adora’s words are mixing with her sobs, choked and hysterical. Catra rushes forward and pulls her back into a hug. She wraps her hand around the back of Adora’s head and pulls her tight against her chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Adora, I didn’t think-”

“I was so worried about you,” Adora cuts her off, her hands clutching tightly to the fabric of Catra’s shirt, “You were gone for days, and I didn’t know if something had happened to you, or if you just didn’t want to come back, or, or-”

“Shh, shh shh, it’s okay, I’m okay, I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” Catra gently brushes her hand through Adora's hair.

“How could you do that? How could you just leave?” Adora’s voice is harsh and accusing beneath the tears.

“I…” Catra begins, but can’t find the words, and instead just buries her nose in Adora’s hair, holding her steady. She squeezes Adora tighter, but Adora pulls away from her embrace. “Adora?”

"I need to clear my head. I'm going for a run." Her words sounds cold and hurt, and every one of them stings.

"Would you like some company?" Catra tries, but Adora shakes her head. Without another word she turns and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Catra stares at the door for a long moment before she moves again.

She's not sure what compels her to take Shadow Weaver's mask out of the knapsack, but she does, laying the shards out on their dresser. Its empty eyes are full of judgment.

“You just had to come between us one last time, didn’t you?” Catra mumbles. She lets the thought settle, mulls it over, and then shakes her head. “No, no that’s not right. I did this. This... this is my fault.” She chews on her lip as her thoughts race. A familiar self-loathing rises in her stomach, hot and shameful. But that burning feeling of worthlessness is Shadow Weaver’s influence, isn’t it? She forces herself to ignore it, clenches her hands into fists.

“You were wrong. I’m going to be good to her. I’m going to do better.”

She snatches the shards off the dresser and walks to the balcony. The view is beautiful, facing out over the ocean, waves lapping at the base of the palace below. Catra looks at the mask again. Before, those eyes had been sharp, accusing. Now she sees no emotion in them at all. It's just a broken piece of metal.

She tosses the mask over the railing. The pieces sail lazily through the air before plummeting into the waves, so far below she can barely see the splash.


	2. Meditations

In retrospect, Catra wonders how she didn’t see it before. After her return it’s as if her eyes opened and she could see what was always there. She was so concerned with her nightmares, with the bags under her eyes, that she failed to notice that Adora has them too. She failed to notice that when Adora heads down to the training rooms to get some exercise and clear her head, she doesn’t see her again for hours. That when she comes back, her knuckles are raw and bruised from too much time spent with the punching bag.

Adora might comfort her through her panic attacks, but she failed to notice that Adora has panic attacks of her own. Less obvious than Catra’s, but they’re there. Catra’s are all gasping breaths and trembling limbs, while Adora’s come with foggy eyes, spaciness, a body gone limp and pliant. As if her brain decided that the best way to escape the intangible fear is to play dead.

How long has this been happening? How many days has Adora suffered in silence, comforting Catra while refusing any comfort for herself? Bearing the load for two people, when she needs help bearing just her own. How many nights have her dreams been haunted, only for her to wake up and confront Catra’s demons too? Suffering in silence, of course, because the one thing Adora could never bear being is a burden.

Catra needs to handle her own problems. She needs to figure out how to cope without dumping everything on Adora, because Adora won’t tell her to stop. Adora will take on more and more and more, pretending she’s fine, under she collapses under the weight. And Catra won’t let that happen. She has a plan. Which is how she finds herself heading towards a place she hasn’t spent much time before.

Brightmoon’s royal gardens are absolutely breathtaking. This is not the tiny little garden Shadow Weaver was allowed to keep, this is something far grander. They lie on a raised courtyard in the very center of Brightmoon, essentially on the roof of one of the buildings, but lower than the buildings around it, surrounded by looming spires. The front and back are right up against the buildings they border, while the sides are flanked by twin arcades made of gleaming marble.

There are tall hedges and trees on the outside of the garden, shielding most of the inside from view until you pass them. The layout of the interior is deliberately winding and irregular, forming lots of little nooks and secluded spots, a way to provide a measure of solitude in the bustling palace. Despite her longing for such solitude, Catra doesn’t come here often. A lifetime growing up in the Fright Zone has left her unaccustomed to lush greenery, more comfortable among metal and machinery. Despite that, Catra walks past the outer perimeter and starts to explore, Melog by her side.

It takes some searching, but she finds Perfuma in one of those secluded spots, tending to a row of flowers. She has been coming back and forth between Plumeria and Brightmoon frequently, her unique powers making her a crucial part of the reconstruction effort. Catra takes a deep, slow breath to steady herself, and approaches her.

"Couldn't you just snap your fingers and make all these flowers grow exactly how you want them to?" She kicks herself at the harsh tone of her voice. Well done Catra, excellent way to start a conversation. Definitely not weirdly hostile and sarcastic, not at all. Melog gives her a _look_ that she diligently ignores. Perfuma smiles, not even remotely startled, and stands up straight, turning to face Catra.

“I find that the process is often just as important as the result.” Perfuma says, and Catra just shrugs and stands there, suddenly unsure of how to begin. She brings one arm across her body, clutching at her forearm and shuffling awkwardly. Perfuma’s smile dims. “You seem troubled Catra. Is everything alright?”

Catra bites her lip. Be better, she reminds herself. Do better.

"Yeah, I actually, um, I wanted to- stars, I can't believe I'm actually saying this," she groans. She stops averting her gaze and looks Perfuma in the eye, "Back before the war ended, you offered to work through some guided meditation with me. I'd, uh, I'd like to take you up on that, if you're still offering."

Perfuma beams and claps her hands together in front of her, “I would like that very much, oh, this so exciting!" She rushes forward and places her hands on Catra's biceps. Catra resists the urge to shrug her off and pull away. "When would you like to start?"

“Now. Before she loses her nerve and backs out,” Melog says. Catra shoots them an annoyed look, knowing Melog is fully aware that Catra is the only one that could hear that sentence. Perfuma hears them meow, and lets go of Catra to turn and face them.

“Would you like to join us Melog?”

"I like this one. She actually talks _to_ me, everyone else acts like I'm your pet."

"They said yes," Catra lies. Melog has become a source of great comfort for her, and she knows this will be much easier with them by her side.

"I told you to stop doing that," Melog scolds her, "but fine. I will."

"And could we, um, could we start now?" Catra asks.

“Absolutely.” Perfuma says. She walks over to just beneath one row of hedges, so she’s standing in the shade, then sits down with her legs crossed and pats the space beside her in invitation. Catra nods and follows her lead, fighting through the uneasiness in her gut. Melog sits beside her, sitting back on their haunches.

"Now, shall we begin?"

* * *

The war room is always busy these days, even if it isn’t used for war anymore. This is where the reconstruction effort is coordinated, planning logistics over maps and lists of supplies. The princess alliance, plus a few extras, crowd around the table in a circle, talking and arguing and planning until their eyes are weary and their throats are sore.

Catra sits beside Huntara as they discuss their recent efforts in the Crimson Wastes. Catra turned out to be a perfect partner for Huntara, given her familiarity with the area and her cachet among some of the gangs. They’ve been working to identify and eliminate the various gangs of bandits and thieves that hide out in the Wastes, whose opportunistic attacks have been a major thorn in the side of the surrounding kingdoms. Catra knows that they won’t be able to get rid of all of them, but by taking out the major players they can destabilize them and make their efforts less coordinated and less effective.

“We’ve been making some good headway,” Huntara explains, “but there’s one group that’s been difficult to handle. They’re small, and we could definitely take them on, but they’re evasive. We’re pretty sure that they’re going to try to make a move soon. Some kind of power play.”

“What have they been doing?” Glimmer asks.

“Kidnapping mostly. Extortion. Some real nasty characters. They sneak up and hit people with drugged darts so they can drag them away without causing a fight.”

“The darts are drugged?” Perfuma asks, “With what? What do they do?”

“It knocks them out,” Catra says quietly, “leaves them unconscious.” Perfuma starts going on about how the drugs are made, and how she might be able to control their supply if she knows what plants they use. Catra is barely listening. Memories flash through her mind. Dragging an unconscious Adora out of Mara’s ship. Tying her up, grabbing her by the collar and shouting at her. She struggles to stay focused on the conversation.

“It would be hard to cut them off,” Huntara says. “They’re not the only ones who use it. A lot of people in the Wastes use it in lower doses.”

“What for?” Perfuma asks.

Huntara chuckles, “For fun. If you take just a little, it leaves you feeling sort of wobbly and confused. Almost like getting drunk.”

The others chime in, but Catra can no longer keep up. Her mind is going foggy, and her heart is beating too fast. The Wastes. Capturing Adora. The portal. Being corrupted and wiped away. It all flashes through her mind, too fast and insistent to control. Catra looks across the table, to an empty chair. The one right next to Micah.

She needs to get out of here. Her stomach churns, and she knows that she needs to get away and try to calm down, use Perfuma’s breathing exercises before she ends up throwing up in the middle of a strategy meeting.

A mumbled excuse buys her the chance to slip out while everyone is focused on Huntara. Her feet carry her through the corridors, acting on autopilot as she stares out with unseeing eyes.

Melog nudges her side. She hadn’t even realized they were with her.

“Breathe,” they remind her. She looks up to find herself in a little-used corner of the palace, not entirely sure how she got there. She swears through gasping breaths. Okay, she can do this, she can do this. This was the whole point of seeing Perfuma every day these past few weeks, right?

In, two, three, four.

Hold, two, three, four.

Out, two, three, four.

It helps. She’s kind of amazed at how much it helps, actually. This is the third time she’s had to use Perfuma’s breathing exercises while on the verge of a panic attack, and while it still sucks, it does help her get through it.

In, two, three, four.

Hold, two, three, four.

Out, two, three, four.

Her heart is still racing, but she manages to keep her breathing steady. The flashes are passing. She opens her eyes. Melog isn’t next to her anymore, and she isn’t quite sure when they left. Where did they go? Whatever. She’s got this. She can do this herself.

Her hands are still shaking, but she feels like she’s mostly got it under control. A surge of pride swells through her chest.

“Catra!” Adora comes running towards her from down the hall, Melog by her side. Catra swears. This is exactly what she didn’t want. They must have gone to get her help, something she has appreciated in the past, but the whole point of this is so she doesn’t have to get Adora every time.

“I’m fine princess, calm down.” Catra mutters. Adora reaches her, and lays a hand on her forearm.

“You had a panic attack?”

“Yeah. I’m fine now though. I dealt with it.” she says. Adora pulls her into a hug, and she breathes out a sigh, accepting the comfort.

“Why didn’t you ask me to come with you? I could have helped.”

Shit.

Catra pulls back out of Adora’s hug.

“I can handle it myself,” Catra snaps, and Adora’s expression goes from worried to frustrated in the span of a second.

“Don’t do that. Don’t push me away. I’m here for you.”

“You can help me by backing off. I said I’m fine.” Catra growls, and dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Normally she has a better filter on that kind of instinctive defensive response these days, but she’s still rattled from her panic attack and it just slipped out unthinkingly. Shame pulses through her body at hurt look on Adora’s face. She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I’m just kinda on edge.” Catra says. Adora nods, and raises a hand to Catra’s cheek. Catra leans into it, closing her eyes and placing her own hand on top of Adora’s. She kisses Adora’s wrist, which earns her a hint of a smile.

“You want to talk about it?”

Catra shakes her head, “Not really. The stuff Huntara was saying got me thinking about the portal. I’m okay now.”

“Good.” Adora says, “But promise me you’ll come to me next time?”

“I… okay.” Catra lies. Adora’s brow furrows.

If Adora doesn’t believe her, she doesn’t mention it. The two of them walk back to the war room in uncomfortable silence.

* * *

Catra can't get her mind to quiet down. They've been doing this almost every day for weeks now, and while some days are better than others, she still can't do anything to control her thoughts on the bad days. And today is most certainly a bad day. Her thoughts circle, relentless, no matter how much she tries to focus on breathing, no matter how much she tries to let them go. She's been in this spiral before, but it's worse today than it ever has been. She fails to clear her mind, which makes her frustrated, which makes it even harder to clear her mind. Eventually, the agitation becomes too much. She opens her eyes and abruptly stands up.

"Catra?" Perfuma asks. Catra just starts walking away. "Catra!" Perfuma jumps to her feet and follows her. "What's going on?"

"I'm not doing this anymore." She storms down the hedgerows, Perfuma close behind.

"But why?"

Catra makes a long, exasperated noise, "Because I suck at this!" She wishes desperately that Melog hadn't decided to sleep in today, suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to disappear.

"That's not true-" Perfuma begins, but Catra stops and whirls to face her.

"You know, I did this because I thought it would help, but it doesn't! I've been trying to handle my own shit, going through all those breathing exercises when I get upset, but it hasn't helped anything, Adora is still-" She clams up, realizing what she just let slip.

"Is that why you asked me to teach you to meditate? You want to help Adora?"

"I'm not talking about this," Catra growls. She is thoroughly aware that she's falling back on old, unhealthy habits, but finds herself unable to stop.

"You don't have to talk to me about it, but who _will_ you talk to?"

"Nobody. I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can Catra," Perfuma says, her voice so, so gentle, "but you don't have to." Catra pauses. Her tail swishes back and forth.

"What do you mean?"

"I know how strong you are. I never said that you _can't_ do this yourself Catra. But you don't _need_ to. You have people who care about you." Perfuma smiles softly, "If you injured your leg, would you hesitate to lean on someone? Maybe you could walk the rest of the way on your own, but wouldn't it hurt less if you let someone take the weight? You're strong enough to walk on your own, but it doesn't make you weak to decide that you don't want to."

Catra is silent for a long time. The air is quiet, the blanket of greenery around them insulating them from the sounds of the palace. Perfuma stands patiently, not a hint of irritation in her eyes.

"Leaning on people is exactly my problem though," Catra begins at length, "Adora was helping me through some stuff. And after a while I realized she was doing just as bad as I was. She let me lean on her, but it was making things worse for her, and I don't want to do that."

"Then lean on someone else; Adora isn't the only person in the world who cares about you, Catra. You have Melog, and Bow, and Glimmer, and Scorpia, and Entrapta. And... and you have me. Adora might not be strong enough to support you right now, but they are. I am."

Catra stares at her for a long moment, unsure of how to respond. The words never come, and eventually she settles for a quiet “Thank you.”

Perfuma smiles, as earnest and open as she always is.

"You are very welcome." Catra returns her smile, smaller and more unsure, but still there. "So, what is it that has you upset?"

"Mmm. The whole point of me doing this was so I could get through some of my problems myself, without having to go to her every time. And I have been! I guess it has helped a bit. But it isn't helping _her._ If anything, she's doing worse now than she was before. She can definitely tell that I'm trying not to rely on her as much, and it seems like it's upsetting her."

"Have you told her about our sessions?"

"No, and I'm not going to. If I let on that I did this because of her, she'll feel so guilty."

"Adora has always been that way, hasn't she?" Perfuma asks, and Catra snorts.

"Oh yeah. And the thing is, we've talked about it! She said she would try to prioritize herself more, but she isn't doing it." Perfuma hums in consideration.

"All the time she spent taking care of you, now that you're not letting her do that anymore, what are you doing instead?"

Catra furrows her brow, "I told you, I'm doing my breathing ex-"

"No no no," Perfuma cuts her off, "If you're not spending that time with Adora anymore, do you do other things with her instead? What are you doing to replace that time together?"

"I... huh. I guess, I guess I hadn't thought of that."

"Adora loves you Catra. She wants to be with you. To her it probably looks like you’re pulling away. You need to find different ways to be intimate with one another."

Catra chews her lip, then nods, "I'll... I'll think about it."

“That’s all I’m asking for.” Perfuma sits down in her meditation pose again. "I'm going to continue. If you're not feeling up to it, that's okay, but I'd love it if you joined me."

Catra thinks for a moment before sitting down beside her. She doesn't sit in meditation pose, but instead sits with her legs bent in front of her, leaning forward to rest her forearms on her knees.

"I don't think I can meditate today. But if you want some company, I'm good to just sit for a while. I promise I'll keep quiet." She gives her an approximation of a smirk, but without the actual mirth. Perfuma chuckles.

"I'd like that."

* * *

As it turns out, Catra and Adora are not very good at this whole emotional intimacy thing. Catra really wants to listen to Perfuma’s advice, but she quickly realizes that she has no idea what to do. Adora is always so closed off, putting on a brave face and insisting she’s fine to avoid bothering anyone else. And if Catra can’t share her own burdens, that leaves her short on ideas.

It isn’t helped by how busy they are. The past week has been hectic, as Catra and Huntara get closer and closer to finding the bandits. She’s bone tired, piloting a skiff on her way back to Brightmoon from a long day under the blazing sun of the Wastes. It’s creeping towards evening, and the shadows are growing long, the light golden.

When she finally gets back she trudges to their room, only to find it empty. She checks to see if Adora’s eating dinner, then checks the gym, before finally seeking out Bow and Glimmer to see if they know where she is. The two of them are still in the war room, poring over maps and papers, looking utterly exhausted. Glimmer gives her a halfhearted smile when she spots her.

“Hey! How did it go?”

Catra shrugs, “Fine. Still haven’t found them, but we’re getting close. Have you seen Adora?”

“You just missed her actually. Apparently there’s a small town in the Crimson Wastes that just got attacked, some people from there came by and requested some assistance from She-Ra. I figured that you might run into each other, but I guess not.”

Catra’s brow furrows, “But I just came from there, I didn’t hear anything about…” A notion begins to take hold in her mind, and it makes her blood run cold. When she speaks again, her voice is strained. “Glimmer. The people who came to ask for her help, what did they look like?”

Glimmer and Bow exchange a glance. “Uhhh, let me think. There were four of them. Two of them were humans, one really tall and the other really short. One of them was a Minotaur, he had really dark fur. And the last one… I don’t remember what the last one looked like.”

“They were some kind of lizard person,” Bow supplies, “they had blue scales.”

Catra’s entire existence pauses.

“Glimmer, I need you to teleport to the armory so you two can grab weapons, and then I need you to meet me by my skiff.” her voice is measured and calm, but there’s a shakiness beneath it that Glimmer and Bow immediately pick up on.

“What’s going on?”

“Do it. _Now._ Adora’s in danger.” Their eyes go wide, and with a burst of magic, they’re gone. Catra breaks into a run, sprinting towards the front gates of Brightmoon and out into the evening air. Her heart is pounding, but filled with deadly confidence.

Nothing is going to happen to Adora. Not on her watch.

Glimmer and Bow appear beside the skiff right as she gets close, Bow armed with his arrows and Glimmer with her staff.

“Come on!” Catra shouts, leaping up onto the skiff and gunning the engine. As soon as the two of them are on, they rocket forward, speeding towards the Crimson Wastes as fast as the skiff will go.

“Catra, what is going on?” Glimmer demands, raising her voice to be heard over the sound of the wind whipping past them.

“Those people didn’t need help from bandits. They _are_ bandits. The ones I’ve been looking for.”

Bow gasps, “What do they want from her?”

Catra sets her eyes towards her destination, her expression stony and her veins throbbing with adrenaline.

“This is their power play. They think they can show that they’re strong by taking She-Ra’s head.” Her voice is a low growl, gravelly with fury and the promise of violence. “We’re going to show them _exactly_ what we do when someone tries to hurt the people we love.”


	3. Ten Feet Tall

The fading twilight casts the orange sand of the Crimson Wastes into shades of purple and blue. Stars that this place went so long without are beginning to show, and soon, they will fill the sky in a tapestry of glittering light. The landscape is hewn with jagged, rocky outcroppings, the sand swirling through the air between them on the breeze. Lying in a notch between two cliffs is the upturned ribcage of some ancient, colossal animal, the spine buried under the sand, forming a colonnade of bone.

In the center of that corridor are a group of figures, standing on the ground behind a horse-drawn cart. A tall human has his hand on the scruff of Adora’s neck, pushing her forward towards the cart as she stumbles and wobbles on her feet.

“How is she still conscious?” the short human says, “Are you sure you made those correctly? She shouldn’t be standing after that.”

“I’m sure, she’s just a stubborn one.” The tall human replies. As he gets closer to the cart, Adora makes a noise of protest, and her struggling finally breaks her out of his grasp, whereupon she immediately swings a feeble punch at him. When he punches back, it is not feeble. She is sent sprawling to the ground, and he follows it up with a kick to her stomach.

“Doesn’t matter. She’s ours now.” The minotaur says, grabbing her and lifting her with one hand before tossing her onto the back of the cart. She lands on her side with a whimper of pain, and the lizardman climbs onto the cart beside her.

“C’mon, let’s go.” The tall human says. The others murmur in agreement.

And then everything happens at once.

A feral howl splits the air. All four of them look back and forth frantically, trying to find the source. Catra barrels down upon them from above, leaping from the top of one of the ribs. She comes down upon the minotaur, raking her claws across his face and drawing out a scream of pain. There’s a loud snapping noise, and the tall human is bowled over, his limbs tangled up in a net that exploded onto him from the air. Catra hits the ground and rolls to break her fall, springing forward and leaping at the short human, tackling her to the ground.

The horse panics and begins to run as fast as it can with the weight of the cart behind it. There’s a flash of pink and Glimmer appears in the air, delivering a solid kick right to the lizardman’s sternum, sending him flying off the back of the cart. She lands on the cart and reaches down, grabbing Adora and teleporting them off the cart safely.

The lizardman and the minotaur manage to get to their feet, and both of them immediately run, sprinting away from their attackers and towards the exit of the notch. The short human starts running in the opposite direction, but Glimmer teleports after her. Catra doesn’t give chase, but instead runs to Adora’s side.

Adora is lying curled up on top of a large, flat rock, groaning and clutching her stomach where the tall human kicked her. Catra hops up next to her and kneels down, placing a comforting hand on Adora’s side. Adora immediately whimpers and flinches away from the touch. Catra withdraws her hand.

“Adora? Adora, it’s me.”

“Catra?” Adora stops trying to scoot away, and lifts her head off of the stone to look of her. She keeps blinking, as if trying to see Catra more clearly. “Catra.” She smiles weakly, and immediately the tension leaves her body.

“Yeah, I’m here baby,” Catra says, not entirely sure where the words are coming from. She’s never called Adora _baby_ in her life. She reaches out her hand slowly, giving Adora time to pull away. “Can I touch you? Is that okay?”

Adora squints, as if the question is a puzzle she needs to reason her way through. Catra just holds her hand there while she waits for her to answer. After a moment, Adora nods emphatically, bobbing her head up and down in big, exaggerated movements. Catra places a hand on Adora’s side, and narrates her movements as she makes them. Before she can do much, there’s a fwish, and Glimmer and Bow appear just off the side of the rock, the short human tied up and barely conscious beside them.

“Adora!” Glimmer exclaims, “Catra, is she okay? What do we do?” Adora flinches away at the loud noise with a whine, and Catra levels a murderous gaze at Glimmer. Before either of them can react, Adora pushes herself forward and off the side of the rock, trying to get back on her feet. The moment she hits the ground her legs begin to wobble and shake, and then they give out as she tries and fails to grab Glimmer’s shoulder for support. She collapses, falling so she’s lying facedown on the sand.

“Adora!” All three of them cry out at the same time. Glimmer goes to grab her and help her up. When she wraps her arm around Adora’s core Adora yelps and kicks her feet, trying to escape. Catra pushes Glimmer away from her as she hops off the rock and crouches down next to Adora.

“Adora?” Catra asks, keeping her voice as soft as she can, “I’m going to pick you up now. Is that okay?” Adora nods, and Catra scoops her up, lifting her up into a bridal carry. Adora clutches at Catra’s shirt and buries her face into her chest.

“Catra, what do we do?” Glimmer asks, sounding increasingly panicked, and beside her, Bow looks like he’s not too far behind.

“Bow, you’re going to deal with him before he finishes getting out of that net,” Catra begins, and Glimmer and Bow both turn and see the tall human freeze where he was starting to cut through the ropes with a knife.

“Oh no you don’t.” Bow rushes over to deal with their captive.

“Glimmer, you’re going to teleport Adora and I back to Brightmoon, then you’re going to come back out here and chase down his friends.”

“Catra, I am not just going to leave her, she needs us!” Glimmer protests.

“No she doesn’t. Those men drugged her. She’s confused right now. If all three of us all trip over each other to help her, we’re just going to overwhelm her.”

“Catra, you can’t just– “

“Yes I can,” Catra hisses, “I am going to take care of her. She’s my… she’s… she’s _mine._ Now do as I say.”

Glimmer stares Catra down for another moment, but the steel in Catra’s eyes is unyielding, and Glimmer breaks away from her gaze with a huff. She grabs Catra’s shoulder and in a flash the three of them are in Adora and Catra’s room in Brightmoon. Glimmer lets go and gives them one last hesitant look.

“I’ve got her Glimmer. It’s okay.” Catra says. Glimmer sighs, closes her eyes, and nods, then vanishes in a burst of magic.

Catra carries Adora across the room in her arms, and sets her down in a plush armchair in the corner. When she turns to go grab a first aid kit, Adora makes a desperate, panicked noise of protest and latches on to Catra’s arm.

“I just need to go grab the first aid kit from the cabinet in the bathroom, I’m coming right back, okay?” Catra says, but Adora frantically shakes her head and clutches tighter. Catra bites her lip and thinks. “You wanna come with me?”

Adora considers this for a moment, before mumbling out an affirmative noise. Catra smiles at her, and tries to peel her hands off from where they’re still wrapped around her arm. When she finally succeeds, she crouches down in front of Adora.

“Alright, arms around my neck babe.” Adora complies, pulling herself right up against Catra’s chest. Catra wraps her arms beneath Adora’s back and under her knees and stands up, lifting her up again. She presses a kiss to the top of Adora’s head where it’s buried in her shoulder. “Hold on tight.”

“M’not lettin’ go.” Adora mumbles, and Catra can’t resist kissing her again. She brings them to the bathroom and uses her knee to knock over the toilet lid, so Adora has a solid surface to sit on. The clatter of it closing makes Adora flinch again, and Catra murmurs a sorry into her hair before setting her down. She shifts over to dig the first aid kit out of the cupboard under the sink, stretching a bit to make sure she doesn’t have to let go of Adora’s hand.

As she prepares to start disinfecting all of Adora’s cuts and scrapes, Catra pauses. Adora has sand all over her, on her clothes, in her hair. Without letting go, Catra reaches over and starts to run water for a bath.

“Sorry to say, but you’re filthy princess. How about we get cleaned up?”

Adora nods and mumbles, “Dirty girl.”

Catra snorts and brushes a stray lock of hair back behind Adora’s ear.

“Oh, you’re a dirty girl, are you?” Catra asks, and Adora giggles.

“Well then dirty girl, let’s get your clothes off,” Catra says in an exaggerated faux-sultry voice. The jacket comes easily enough, but getting Adora’s shirt off proves to be a difficult task. She makes affirmative noises when Catra asks, but doesn’t seem to fully register what that task involves, and maneuvering her uncooperative, boneless arms around is a challenge. Catra alternates between checking the water temperature as it pours and helping Adora out of her clothes, and eventually she manages to do it.

She carries Adora once again, and sets her down gently in the bath. Adora makes a little contented hum, but then she cranes her head back to look up at Catra above her. A look of confusion passes over her face, and then she pouts.

"You too.“ And how could Catra say no to that? She quickly strips off all her clothes, looking over to see a big, dopey grin on Adora's face. Catra rolls her eyes and pats Adora's back to urge her to scoot forward before slipping into the bath behind her. She wraps her arms around Adora's waist and pulls her close. Adora lets her head loll to the side so that her cheek is flat against Catra's shoulder, nestled into the crook of her neck.

"There. You have fun staring at me, you perv?" Catra teases. Adora nuzzles against Catra's fur.

"Y'r pretty." she slurs, and Catra smiles and squeezes her waist with her arms.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up."

Adora stays quiet while Catra cleans her off, gently scrubbing her skin and shampooing her hair. She takes her time, making sure to avoid pressing on Adora's cuts and bruises.

The two of them have never treated each other particularly gently, no matter how close they were in the past. That’s just not how they were raised. They’re affectionate towards one another, sure, but not especially gentle.

Catra can’t help but be gentle now. She knows that Adora is strong, but seeing her in her arms like this… oh, she's such a fragile little thing, isn't she? It doesn't make any sense, given that Adora has always been bigger than her, but right now Adora feels so small in her embrace. Catra is ten feet tall, an unshakable knight with the resolve to match, here to tend to her princess. All of the tension and frustration of the past few weeks flows out of her; there is no place for it. She has a job to do.

After she finishes and helps Adora towel off, she sits her down on the toilet and reaches for the first aid kit again. It takes a while to disinfect all of Adora’s cuts and scrapes, but she treats every single one, pressing little kisses to the skin nearby whenever the sting makes Adora hiss. Catra figures she’s acquitting herself admirably, despite her lack of experience in this kind of thing. In the Fright Zone, injuries were tended to alone, and letting someone else see them, take care of them, was weakness. She’s never taken care of Adora like this before. The frantic worry that she keeps expecting to overcome her never appears. Instead, she finds herself filled with a methodical certainty.

Once Adora’s wounds are cleaned and bandaged, Catra carries her back to their bed and dresses her in some of her own nightclothes. She knows it's silly. Adora's clothes are right there, and they certainly fit her better than anything meant for Catra's slender frame. But this just feels right. The moment they're on her Adora reaches out and makes grabby hands at Catra, trying to pull her close.

Catra lies on her back, propped up a bit on the pillows, and helps Adora drape herself across her. Adora shifts and grabs at her until her limbs are tangled around Catra like an octopus. Catra's arm loops around Adora's back and holds her tight. Adora mumbles something unintelligible and buries herself deeper into the fur on Catra's chest.

"N'ght." she manages to get out.

"Goodnight, princess." Catra whispers.

It doesn't take long before Adora falls asleep, worn out from her ordeal, but Catra doesn't rest her eyes just yet. She holds Adora tight, hoping that will be enough to ward off the nightmares that Adora pretends she doesn’t have.

When Catra finally lets herself sleep, her own demons appear, ready to torment her once again. A dreamscape that is a blend of countless childhood memories, where Shadow Weaver's fingers crackle with dark lightning. Where her magic binds Catra in place, an unbreakable grip of burning ice, the sure herald of worse punishments to come.

But not this time.

Shadow Weaver unleashes her magic upon her, but in this dream Catra is not a child. She is ten feet tall, and walks confidently through the storm. It cannot hurt her anymore; she is beyond its grasp.


	4. Affection

Catra has always been a creature of instinct. She had to be, to survive in the fright zone. It’s what lets her be so nimble, so quick-thinking. She supposes it’s also why she reacted so badly when Adora left; acting purely on the bone-deep feeling of hurt, rather than stopping to think.

Lately, she’s been discovering instincts that she didn’t know she had. A steady, protective urge that fills her with calm pride. It shocks her how naturally it comes. How she can spot Adora’s panic attacks before they fully hit, picking up on her subtle tells. How she starts to notice the smaller ways that Adora struggles, the things that hurt her, the ways she hurts herself.

She can’t pinpoint if she’s changed, or if this was always there and she just wasn’t listening for it, but she follows that instinct regardless. She’ll see Adora’s anxiety rising, approaching panic, and she’ll pull her close and be very clingy, letting the physical contact ground Adora without having to ask if she’s okay and make her defensive. She’ll keep an eye on the people coming into the palace looking for aid, pick out the ones that are clearly looking to talk to She-Ra, and divert them. Get them to talk to Glimmer or Micah instead.

It’s the little things. All the tiny little ways that she can intervene, take care of Adora without letting her realize that anything was done. All the little gestures and bits of affection, nothing grand, but enough to make Adora feel loved, even when Catra can’t bring the words to the surface.

It’s a side of her that she never knew existed, but she wants to embrace it.

Just about every day, Adora likes to go to the Brightmoon royal guard’s training gym. She’ll do some sword training, but for the most part it’s just exercise. She uses the weights and the punching bags, and sometimes spars with a few guards she’s struck up a little friendship with. Catra doesn't think that they're aware of just how much time Adora spends there, of the hours and hours, the bruised knuckles. She's been subtly trying to draw Adora away from it, to get her to be kinder to her body, but there's only so much she can do. So on a gray, rainy afternoon, when she sees Adora getting ready to head down there, that instinct kicks in.

While Adora gets ready, Catra rummages through their first aid kit until she’s able to grab two long strips of cloth and some tape.

"Hey Catra, I'm heading down to the gym, I'll see you later." Adora calls out.

"Not yet you're not." Catra replies as she walks out of the bathroom with her supplies in hand.

"What's all that?"

"C'mere," Catra insists, setting some of the supplies down on an end table near the door. Adora obeys, tilting her head to the side quizzically. Catra takes Adora's left hand in hers, and starts to wrap the cloth back and forth around it. She moves slowly, letting herself enjoy the intimacy of the touch.

"What is this for?" Adora asks.

"I've got to curb your meathead tendencies somehow, don't I?" Catra teases, although there's no bite to it. She doesn't stop her work as she talks, finishing up wrapping and taping the left hand, before swapping over to the right. She rubs her thumb over the back of Adora's knuckles, which already look a little red and raw from previous sessions. "You're going to mess up your hands if you keep this up. And I need your hands healthy for... other things."

Adora rolls her eyes, but she's smiling. "We've been together for months and still you won't admit to doing something just because you like me." Catra finishes the wrapping and lets her eyes flick up to meet Adora's. She doesn’t know how to respond to that, so she does what she does best. She acts.

Catra raises the back of Adora's hand to her lips and gently kisses it. It makes Adora blush and avert her eyes, looking uncharacteristically demure. The sight of it fills Catra with affection and, she'll admit, at least a little bit of smugness.

Adora stammers out a flustered goodbye and heads out, while Catra stifles a laugh at her reaction. This is the other part of her new instincts, and the part she enjoys the most. Catra goes out of her way to take care of Adora in the little ways, and is rewarded by Adora's complete inability to figure out how to respond. She’ll fidget and stutter and ramble, acting so unbelievably awkward that it fills Catra with love.

It makes her a little sad, that Adora is so unaccustomed to being cared for, but she figures now is as good a time as any to get her used to it.

By the time Adora comes back that night Catra is gone, having made plans to spend time with Scorpia a few days ago, but when she opens the door she finds a basin full of ice water sitting on the end table, along with a small jar of lotion. She smiles, takes off her hand wraps, and eases the pain of her sore knuckles and raw skin, feeling safe in the knowledge that she is loved.

* * *

  
  


They manage to go three weeks without acknowledging the change between them, and the tension is palpable. Catra can feel it building, can feel the moments where Adora wants to say something but holds herself back. Catra has never been one for words, so she knows that she won’t be the one to bring it up.

It starts in the late afternoon, the hallways of Brightmoon cast in shades of gold from the dimming sun, punctuating the end of a very long day. While the post-war reconstruction is coming along nicely, the list of tasks requiring She-Ra's assistance is neverending, and Catra can see the relentless pace of it wearing Adora down. She can see the weariness that sits like iron in Adora’s bones, and she’s glad that they’re done for the day.

Which is why, when a pair of very well-meaning townsfolk from Elberon intercept them in the hall and starting asking for She-Ra’s immediate assistance, Catra fumes. She’s sure whatever they want is important, but she can’t even process the words they’re saying. The impatience rises in her gut as she watches them breathlessly recount their woes, and when she sees the resigned look on Adora’s face, she steps in.

“Actually, Adora is done for the day. Ask someone else.” she cuts them off before Adora can respond. Everyone turns to look at her.

“Well, we really need She-Ra’s – “ they begin, but Catra doesn’t let them finish.

“I said she’s _done.”_

“Catra – “ Adora nervously starts.

“Talk to the Queen if you need help.”

“Well, it’s just that – “

“I assume you can find your own way to the throne room?”

The two of them shift uncomfortably, looking more than a little put out. “Well, yes, I suppose…”

“Good.” Catra dismisses them and turns, looping her arm around Adora’s and tugging her along with her.

The walk back to their room is silent and unbearably tense. Adora’s lips are pursed into a thin line, and Catra knows that they’re going to have to have a _talk_ when they get there. She supposes it was only a matter of time before something like this happened.

The moment Catra closes the door behind her, Adora whirls to face her.

"What was that?" she demands.

“You need a night off, princess.”

"Why are you-" Adora starts, then cuts herself off with an exasperated noise, "you need to stop treating me like I'm made of glass!"

Catra blinks. Okay, that was not what she expected to hear.

"What are you talking about?"

"Ever since the night I got attacked, you've been all over me! You've been fussing over me, and been all protective, and now this. You can stop looking at me like I'm going to fall apart any second!"

Catra fights the instinctive response that rises in her throat. That’s exactly why she hates doing this so much. She can’t rely on her instincts for this. That has only ever lead her to disaster and self-destruction.

"Do you not like it when I do those things?" she asks instead, dreading Adora’s response more and more with every word. But to her surprise, Adora blushes, and turns her head to the side so she doesn't have to look Catra in the eye.

"It's not... it's not that I don't like it. But I hate that you see me differently now." she says. Catra lets out a long breath, and steps closer to Adora. Adora turns her head to look at her as she gets closer, but doesn't say anything. Catra reaches out a hand as she gets close, and rests it gently on Adora's jaw, brushing her thumb against her cheek. Adora's eyes flutter and she leans into the touch.

"You think I think less of you for needing help?" Catra asks softly. Adora huffs.

"I don't need-"

 _"Adora."_ Catra cuts her off, with a confident firmness that makes Adora's mouth snap shut. She closes her eyes and buries her face a little deeper into Catra's hand.

"I... yes. Sometimes." she mumbles, and Catra’s heart breaks. Because she knows exactly where this is coming from. Everyone in the Fright Zone had that lesson drilled into them since birth – to accept help is weakness, and weakness is unacceptable. Catra embodied that more than anyone else. Taunted Adora about it over and over again during the war. She knows _exactly_ why Adora is scared that she’ll judge her for it, and she knows it’s her own damn fault.

"Look at me Adora." Catra commands. It takes a long moment, but Adora eventually obeys, her eyes flicking back open, face still half-pressed to Catra's palm, so only one eye is peeking out. Catra puts her other hand onto the other side of Adora's face, coaxing her to look at her head-on. “I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m _not_ that person anymore. And I will never think less of you for needing help. _Ever_ _._ Do you understand?”

Adora hesitates, “Then why are you treating me differently?”

Catra bites her lip. She’s still feeling sore and exhausted after the day they’ve had, so she walks over to their bed and sits propped up with her back against the headboard. A lazy gesture beckons Adora over to her, and when she climbs up onto the bed, Catra grabs her and pulls her back so that she falls into her lap. Catra holds her there, with her arms around her waist and her lips pressed against the nape of her neck.

“I like taking care of you,” Catra mumbles against Adora’s skin, “I didn’t realize that I did until that night, but I do.”

“You going soft on me?” Adora teases.

“Shut up.” Catra retaliates with a playful nip to Adora’s neck that elicits a noise that’s half yelp, half laugh. But when Catra continues, her voice is serious. “It doesn’t make me feel soft. It makes me feel strong. And… proud, I guess?”

Adora wriggles and turns around just enough that she can look at Catra’s eyes.

“I haven’t had a single nightmare since that night.” Catra continues.

“Really?”

“It’s like… I can’t keep you safe if all that is getting in the way, so it has to go.”

“I am safe. You make me feel safe.” Adora says in a watery whisper. Catra raises a hand from Adora’s waist to brush away the tears that are forming in those blue eyes.

“Everyone expects you to be strong all the time, and it’s bullshit. You deserve to have a life too. I want _you_ to be soft. I want you to let yourself be selfish.” Adora casts her eyes downwards, but Catra doesn’t let her pull away. She hooks two fingers under Adora’s chin and tilts her head up so she can’t look away. “Will you do that for me? Will you let me take care of you?"

Adora nods, and Catra’s heart swells. “Okay.”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

"Promise?"

"Promise." Catra says, with a surety that runs through her very bones.

Adora sighs and snuggles closer, burying her face in the crook of Catra's neck. Her whole body relaxes, turning boneless and pliant in Catra’s arms. Catra runs her hand through Adora’s hair, and smiles when Adora presses a kiss against her neck. They don’t say anything else that night, too tired to keep a conversation going if it isn’t necessary. Catra just holds her, and watches as the weight of the world falls off her shoulders.


	5. Epilogue

On a flat stone landing, in a vast, secluded mountain range on a distant planet, Darla rests tucked away and hidden. Inside, her many hallways and chambers are dark, quiet, and still. Without any crew inside, all of her lights and displays and feedback are turned off, though her sensors still listen silently.

The interior is almost unrecognizable. While the crew made due during the war, she wasn’t equipped for the long voyage she finds herself on now. The spartan sleeping chambers were retrofitted into comfortable bedrooms. One of the side rooms whose purpose they couldn’t determine is now a blooming garden, with rows and rows of plants growing fresh food. The previously empty cargo bay is stacked high with crates of supplies. The wall between two of the spare sleeping chambers was torn out, to create a cozy common area with couches and tables.

The entire ship is heavily modified. Its hull plating, worn and dented after a thousand years of abuse, has been entirely replaced with new, gleaming metal. She bears the fruits of months of labor from an excitable Entrapta, who took enthusiastically to the challenge of renovating her. Three years after her heroic return to Etheria, she is once again journeying amongst the stars.

In the distance, the sound of an explosion rings out.

She stands unperturbed on the rocky clearing, resting in the center of the semicircle of cliffs that surround her, facing the opening between them, exposing a view over the ridgeline and out towards the starry night sky.

Another explosion, closer this time.

Slowly, the sound of shouting voices begins to distinguish itself from the low noise of the wind. It grows louder and louder. Blaster fire rings out. Stone splinters. The shouting gets closer.

The sound of panicked voices and pounding footsteps reaches the landing.

With a whoosh, Darla lets the airlock open and the ramp descend. Seconds later, Glimmer and Bow burst through, Glimmer hobbling as fast as she can with a limping right leg. Seconds later, Catra follows, Adora slung over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The moment they’re off the ramp, it begins to close behind them.

“Punch it, Darla!” Bow shouts.

“Affirmative.” Darla’s disembodied voice confirms as the lights flick on and the ship comes to life. “I advise you to brace yourselves.”

The warning gives them all only a few seconds to prepare before the engines fire with a deafening pulse and the ship rockets through the opening at an incredible speed. Bow managed to grab on to something, but Catra is sent careening backwards. She just barely manages to catch herself with a grip on a nearby pole, crying out with the strain of holding both herself and Adora up with one arm as the force is redirected, sending her spinning to the side as she struggles to keep her footing. Glimmer is not so lucky, flying through the air and landing directly on her back with a resounding thud that drives the air out of her chest. They leave behind them a parade of pursuing figures swarming up the ridgeline, only moments behind. A wave of blaster fire chases them, but it isn’t nearly quick enough, and before Catra and Glimmer can even right themselves, they’re soaring through the atmosphere and into the vacuum.

All four of them gasp for air.

“Let’s never do that again.” Glimmer wheezes.

“That was _harrowing.”_ Bow agrees, his voice cracking in distress.

“Come on, we need to take care of our tactical genius here,” Catra scowls, ignoring Adora’s groan of pain as she carries her to the common room. She crouches down to let Adora drop off her back and sit on the couch. Bow and Glimmer enter behind her, Glimmer leaning her weight on Bow as she hobbles over to the other couch and sits opposite Adora.

“Ugh, I definitely sprained my ankle, this sucks.”

“I think I sprained my… everything.” Adora grimaces.

“And whose fault is that?” Catra accuses as she comes back from fetching their first aid kit, which has seen a truly unfortunate amount of use these past three months. Adora grumbles. “Oh speak up, I don’t think we heard you.”

“Mine.” Adora sighs. Catra sets the first aid kit down beside her. She reaches forward and aggressively pinches Adora’s cheeks, tugging on them and stretching them out.

“What are you?”

“An idiot,” Adora slurs, not quite able to close her mouth properly like this.

“That’s right. And why are you an idiot?”

“I ran ahead without thinking.”

“And what are you not supposed to do?”

“Run ahead without thinking.”

“And what are you not going to do again?”

“Catraaaaaa" Adora whines. Catra stops tugging and instead switches to gripping Adora face tightly with one hand.

“What are you not going to do again?”

“Run ahead without thinking.”

“That’s right.” Catra pulls Adora’s boots off one by one. Adora pants are ripped and tattered from her tumble across the rocky ground, so Catra unbuttons them.

“Wha – “ Adora begins, right before Catra sharply yanks her pants off, “Hey!”

“Oh grow up. I need to patch up your leg.” Catra grabs the first aid kit and pulls out the disinfectant.

“Nice panties Adora.” Glimmer snickers, and Adora looks down, only to see that she’s wearing the ones with a pattern of cute little cartoon cat faces on it. She flushes bright red.

“Shut up.”

“I don’t know,” Catra smirks, “personally, I find them very flattering.”

“Catraaaaaaaa.” Glimmer and Bow both laugh as Bow hands Glimmer an ice pack to nurse her ankle with. The sudden sting of the disinfectant makes her hiss and instinctively flinch away. Catra grips her leg tighter to hold her in place.

“Hold still, you big baby.” Catra says, but she makes sure to treat the next scrape more gently. She moves swiftly and efficiently and she treats all of Adora’s wounds. Disinfecting and bandaging the cuts, rubbing salve on the massive bruise on her thigh, icing down her ankle, which is even more swollen than Glimmer’s. By this point she’s used to this, and she’s had entirely too much practice doing it.

Adora might have a healthier relationship with her own self worth than she used to, but she’s still reckless and impulsive. It’s just who she is. The difference is, now she has someone to patch her up afterwards.

As she’s rubbing ointment on a patch of raw skin on Adora’s thigh, Catra looks up at her. There’s a bright pink blush covering Adora’s face as she stares back down, and Catra realizes that she’s kneeling lodged pretty firmly between Adora’s legs, and rubbing her thigh. She reaches up and flicks Adora’s nose.

“Hey!”

“No enjoying this. You’re supposed to be learning a lesson right now.”

“So what should I be doing?”

“I don’t know. Look chastened. Think remorseful thoughts.” Adora snickers, and Catra glares at her again, but despite her best efforts, the laughter doesn’t stop.

She’s distracted by Bow coming into the room bearing dinner – she hadn’t even realized he’d left. He places the tray on the table between the two couches, and they all dig in.

There are many things Catra likes about their journey through the stars, and just as many that she does not. But this? This is her favorite thing. The four of them relax together, eating and talking and making fun of each other (mostly making fun of Adora.) She has come to relish these moments of togetherness.

She didn’t think she would. Glimmer and Catra were at each other’s throats all the time in the beginning, but they’ve grown close. Catra would never admit it, but Glimmer is her closest friend, outside of Adora. She even finds herself enjoying Bow’s company, despite their personalities being oil and water.

After they finish eating, she notices Adora looking over at her with a gaze that clearly wants something.

“Absolutely not.” she says.

“Pleaaaaase Catra?”

“No. Think remorseful thoughts.” Catra shuts her down, and she tries really hard not to look at Adora. Really, she does. But eventually she breaks, and is greeted by the most sad-eyed pout she’s ever seen in her life, and _dammit._ ”Fine. Get over here.”

“Yes!” Adora crows her victory and practically throws herself into Catra’s arms. Catra leans back so she’s half reclining, her back against the couch’s arm and her feet stretched out along the length of the cushions. Adora nestles herself between Catra’s legs, her back to Catra’s front, and wriggles until she manages to get comfortable. Catra’s arms instinctively wind around her waist.

“Aww, Catra.” Bow coos.

“Don’t you even start with me.”

“But you two are so cute!”

“Yeah, c’mon Catra,” Glimmer chimes in with a smirk, resting her head on Bow’s shoulder with his arm around her, “we all know that you’re a softie.”

“I am _not_ soft.”

“You are for me.” Adora teases, and Catra growls.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” She’s interrupted by Bow making a high pitched noise of glee. “Oh shut up and cuddle your wife already.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Bow and Glimmer start talking to one another, and Catra tunes them out. She focuses on the girl in her arms, strong and delicate and brave and soft. She presses a kiss to the top of Adora’s head. Adora hums.

“I’m sorry,” Adora says, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Catra kisses her again, and leaves her lips pressed into Adora’s hair. “I don’t like seeing my princess get hurt.”

The nickname makes Adora smile and snuggle closer, turning slightly onto her side so she can nuzzle her nose into the crook of Catra’s neck. Catra spent the first two years after the war trying not to call Adora that. She thought it would drag too many bad memories to the surface. Too many echoes of her own mocking voice. But she discovered that it’s become Adora’s favorite little endearment between the two of them, one that never fails to make her feel small and pretty like she sometimes needs.

“But you’ll always keep me safe,” Adora murmurs, closing her eyes.

“I’’ll always keep you safe,” Catra echoes.

“Still. I’ll try to be more careful.” Adora finishes the sentence with a yawn.

“Good girl.”

Adora makes a contented little noise, and dozes off in Catra’s arms. Catra brushes her fingers through Adora’s hair. It has been a long journey, getting Adora to the point where she’s comfortable acting like this around Catra. A journey with many setbacks, and fights, and tears. A journey that’s still in progress, and will never end. But nonetheless, they’ve come far.

Adora is her princess, and Catra is her knight. They take care of each other. And no matter what trials the cosmos may throw at them, Catra knows they’ll be okay. Nothing truly bad can happen, as long as they have each other.


End file.
